


"Yes Master" Part 2

by ChubbinLovin (TinyBibliophile)



Series: Coming Home to You [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubstuck, F/M, Fatstuck, Homestuffed, Master/Servant, Stuffing, Weight Gain, fat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBibliophile/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: Maybe Dirk was taking a few too many pointers from Dave... now he's wanting the royal treatment too. Not that you minded.Alternative to "Yes Master" with Dirk.





	"Yes Master" Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> A good friend on my tumblr requested I write a maid kink fic with Dirk, and I was more than happy to oblige! I wasn't originally gonna post it here because I thought it was redundant, but I haven't updated in a while so. Here you go I guess.

Dirk’s request had been simple: he wanted you to bring your maid uniform home. You weren’t an idiot, and you’d teased that if he wanted to play that way, he should get off his fa tass and come see you at the cafe. His response? “I’m not about to watch you curtsy and dote on a bunch of strangers. You’re _mine_ , remember?”

You weren’t sure if this was just a bit of preemptive role play or if he was really that protective of you, but either way it convinced you to do as he said. So that day as you left work, you explained to your coworkers that you’d gotten a spill on your uniform and were taking it home to wash it. Nobody cared enough to question you on the matter.

When you arrived home, you heard him call you from the kitchen. “Hurry and get changed, darlin’,” he drawled in that sultry, southern accent, “you’re late.”

You guessed you should’ve expected such a direct approach from him, but it still made your stomach tingle with excited butterflies. “Coming, Master,” you replied, half-mocking him. If he picked up on your brief snark, he didn’t make it known. Meanwhile you hurried and changed into your uniform and joined him in the kitchen.

He sat at the table, an assortment of sweets and pastries laid out in front of him. It wasn’t nearly so ritzy as the cafe, most of the treats still in their original packaging from the store, but it would serve your purposes just as well. “Lot’a nerve you’ve got keepin’ me waitin’,” he chided, and you noticed him licking a bit of chocolate icing from the corner of his mouth. “Had to start without you.”

Apart from that, you noticed something else: rather than his normal t-shirt and jeans, he was dressed in a crisp, button-up shirt and dress slacks. You guessed they’d been from some formal event long passed, and clearly didn’t fit anymore. Might as well put them to one last good use. The shirt already strained faintly around his middle, creases forming between his rolls and around his soft breasts. He looked barely contained, hints of fleshy, pale skin peaking out between the buttons.

“Patience is a virtue, Master,” you crooned softly as you waltzed your way over to him, letting your knee rest on the arm of the chair that hugged his hips as they bulged around them. You tangled your gloved hand into his silky hair while you ran your fingers over the barely-contained pudge of his chest. “You could stand to learn it.”

You were honestly pretty surprised he was allowing you to touch and tease him like this so early in your endeavors, but it made a bit more sense when you felt his broad hand clap against your rear and reach under your skirt. Clearly he was allowing it because it suited _his_ whims, not yours. His fingers squeezed a handful of your thigh from behind, nearly forcing you to fall into his lap.

“You ought’a learn your place,” he growled against your neck, his nails digging into your backside before he released you. Your breath had gone still in your throat, your face burning and heart thudding rapidly. “Now get to work, darlin’. We’ve got lost time to make up for.”

“As you wish, Master.”

You asked what he wanted to start out with, and he nodded his head towards a small, round cake. It was a rich, moist chocolate with creamy icing. It was just bigger around than a tea saucer, one of those little personal cakes. A chunk was already missing, and a fork sitting beside it with remnants of chocolate crumbs and frosting left on its prongs.

You picked up the little tray the cake sat on as well as the fork, dipping it deep into the cake to take out a huge portion. “Open wide,” you urged, but he’d already done so, eager and demanding as ever. As you slid the morsel past his lips and over his tongue, he began to softly tease the skin peaking out from the buttons of his shirt.

You licked your lips as you watched this, but one of his hands moved quickly to cup your chin and force your eyes to meet his over the rims of his shades. “Don’t be so shameless,” he scolded in a deep, throaty growl after swallowing down the bite.

It was hard not to. With every bite you gave him, eventually taking to dabbing his face with a napkin every few forkfulls, he grew more and more experimental with his busy hands. Now that you were closer, you saw the way the bottom of his belly-roll poked out from under the last button, his width making the garmet not only too tight, but too short.

“You’ve gotten so big, Master,” you dared to remark, shoving a morsel of cake into his mouth before he could reply. “I wonder how huge you’ll let yourself grow…”

For a moment his act faltered, his eyes dazing with arousal as he worked down the bite of cake you’d pushed into his mouth against his will. He had to visibly shake his head again to get back into character. “Any more comments like and I’ll hafta punish you.”

You bit your lip to fight back a giddy smirk. “How so?” you challenged, enjoying this rivalry you shared. If his deep flush and bated breath were any indication, so did he. “By crushing me with your massive behind? A bit of poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”

He suppressed a groan, his teeth grinding from the effort. “Lot’a nerve,” he repeated under his breath, opening his mouth to demand more food. In moments the cake had disappeared, and it was onto the next treat. This time you didn’t give him the option; there was a gallon of ice cream starting to drip with condensation, and it called to you.

You snapped the lid off and went to the drawers to grab the biggest spoon you could find. If you’d have been strong enough, you’d have yanked his chair backwards so you could stand properly in front of him. He was too heavy though, and you knew it, so instead you clambored into his lap. He started to object, but once again you shut him up, this time with a heaping spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream.

His brows twitched in what you thought could’ve been arousal or irritation. Either way, you just grinned. “Swallow, pig,” you taunted demandingly, a new wave of warm pink flooding his cheeks. He did, his hands now reaching around to hold you tightly by your backside, yanking your body into his roughly.

“You’re really askin’ for it, aren’t you?” he murmured lustingly, opening his mouth for another sweet, melty bite. A drop dribbled down his chin, but rather than wipe it away with a finger or napkin, you licked it delicately off with your tongue, trailing upwards until you ended the teasing gesture in a toothy kiss.

You continued like that, constantly fighting back and forth for the dominant roll. As the tub of ice cream emptied, his stomach began to swell out. After the last bite had disappeared, sliding smoothly down his throat, you heard the buttons of his shirt groan audibly against his swollen belly. “My,” you teased, “what a glutton you are… you haven’t lasted half as long as Master Dave.”

This made his eyes narrow a little bit, wetting his lips at your subtle dare. “We’re not finished,” he assured you, gesturing around you with his eyes for you to get another snack for him. Though by that point, it was long past being a snack. You eyed a baker’s dozen of Krispy Kreme doughnuts with their shiny glaze and fluffy batter fried to perfection.

If that didn’t finish him off, you thought, you weren’t sure what would.

You took the box and ballanced it between your body and his, plucking the first doughnut out and holding it up to his lips. He took several quick, relatively clean bites, sighing a bit as the confection melted in his mouth. With the first doughnut gone, you began to lick your fingers clean of the sticky residue.

You had barely finished with your index finger when he snatched your wrist and gaze at you instensely. “Little thief,” he breathed hotly, though he was unable to fight back a little smirk as he guided your fingers to his lips. His tongue was sinful as it stroked and wrapped around each digit to savor every last speck of frosting. A delightful shudder jolted up and down your spine as you gasped softly, making him chuckle around your pinky finger triumphantly.

He parted from your pinky with a soft little pop, his tongue flicking out over his full lips. You fed him another doughnut, and once again he cleaned your fingers. This routine continued until the sixth doughnut, when you heard another loud strain of his shirt being pulled apart by his swelling gut. “Close to bursting,” you breathed suggestively, not specifying whether you meant the shirt or his stomach itself. “Think you can keep going?”

He just glared weakly, opening his mouth as a silent demand for more. You obliged. He cleared three more before the bottom-most button finally gave a final scream and snapped off, his tummy wobbling subtly with the release. Dirk groaned, a hand lowering to lift his gut in his hand and let it drop freely back down against his lap.

“Four more,” you coaxed, his eyes looking dreamy now. It took a lot more encouraging now, his poor belly beginning to get painfully full. Now the buttons were making dents in the rounded surface of his stomach, each bite prompting a soft whimper of weakening stitches. Three more. _Snap_. Another button gone, the bottom half of the shirt now wide open while the top still hung on for dear life. Two more. _Riiiip_.

Instead of a button breaking off, the fabric of the shirt itself tore open, which you honestly found much more impressive. The button still clung stubbornly to its hole, but now there was a gaping tear on the left side of it. Dirk groaned with light, airy breaths as he looked at the damage he’d done. “Well,” you told him, fingering the shredded hole and pinching the skin it revealed between your fingers. “Dave hasn’t managed that.”

That made Dirk grin proudly, and the last two doughnuts disappeared in a matter of minutes. One more button broke free, only the top three still remaining intact. While he leaned back in his seat, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs softly, you took to undoing those final buttons so you could press your palms and dig your nails into the squishy flesh of his breasts.

Your nails traced down his flabby waist and over the taut sphere of his belly to try and calm the grumbling, gurgling aches he surely must’ve been feeling. “You’re such a mess,” you goaded sweetly, pampering his round cheeks with kisses. He let you, swallowing thickly and glancing down at your hands toying with his fat, bloated body.

Between his stuffed state and the tight fit of the chair around his wide ass, it took both of you to help him get to his feet to abscond to his room.


End file.
